


Give Up the Goats

by itshysterekal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, ram-bunctious goat puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itshysterekal/pseuds/itshysterekal
Summary: It doesn't matter where Steve is. They always find him.He tenses, ready to spring into the room and take out a veritable army of henchmen.Suddenly, a tap on his shoulder.A be-polo'd person offers him a keypad and a stylus."I just need a signature for this."In which Steve receives regular and anonymous stuffed goats from someone who paid for unbelievably high priority shipping.





	Give Up the Goats

**Author's Note:**

> Look, i am the person who looked at Captain Kirk surviving a planetary genocide as a child and my kneejerk response was "You know what would make this SO MUCH WORSE?"
> 
> So when i say this is crack!fic, bear in mind who wrote it. There are no serious TWs (correct me if i'm wrong, please and thank you) but there is brief crying-on-the-floor because of who i am as a person.
> 
> It's... yeah. Definitely, definitely crack!fic. Just... it got away from me a little.
> 
> Quick shout out to the stucky discord i'm in because i posted a picture of a FB ad where there is a real company that sends anonymous goats and some of these jokes definitely came out of that conversation.

It isn’t a particularly significant day when Steve gets the first one. He goes for his morning run, grabs a kale juice from his local café and asks about the barista’s dog. Steve’s been thinking of getting a dog, so that’s what his morning chat with Kylie is about. Last he heard, her rescue pup was doing a trick that involved pressing his nose to the backs of her knees until she gave him oodles of attention- which would be cute if his nose weren’t so cold and if she always saw it coming. 

Steve really wanted someone to startle him for affection every now and then, and Kylie was being immensely helpful in pointing him toward the best shelters to support. She’d taken to asking him if he’d found a furry companion yet, and he’d taken to finding new and clever ways of saying he hadn’t yet found his furry soul mate. 

So when he got back to his apartment to find a harried-looking FedEx guy waiting for him, he was a little confused. “Finally,” the guy said, seeming completely unconcerned with the fact that he was addressing Captain America. “I don’t know how anyone can send something so high priority that I can’t get to my next stop without delivering it.” 

“Oh, uh… I didn’t order anything,” Steve said, and it sounded like a question. 

“Not my problem,” FedEx McGrump replied, shoving a screen and stylus at him. “I just need a signature from Steven Grant Rogers saying I put this box in his hands.” 

Steve frowned and signed, glancing around for cameras. Was he being pranked? Surely no one would spend this kind of money on a prank. The box was left in his possession and suddenly he realized exactly how much money it had to cost to get a _FedEx delivery person_ to literally stand around and wait. From what Steve had heard, modern delivery people had strict time constraints and horrific quotas that they had to make each day. They didn’t have time to wait on someone who might or might not show up…

Immediately, he pulled out his phone and dialed Wanda, hoping she hadn’t left town yet. She picked up on the second ring. “Steve?” 

“Wanda, I need your help. Please tell me you’re still in town.” 

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Where are you? What’s wrong?” 

“It might be nothing,” he replied, “but I just got a strange package and I’m worried about what’s inside. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” 

“You’re home?” she said. “How did they find you?” 

Hell, Steve hadn’t even thought that far through this thing. How _had_ they found him? “I don’t know. All I know is I have a box about the size of my head and whoever sent it to me paid so much money the guy wasn’t allowed to leave until it was in my hands and signed for.” 

“I’m about five minutes away,” she informed him. “Does it tick?” 

“No, Wanda, it doesn’t tick,” Steve rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t feel heavy enough to be a bomb or any kind of tech, but it could contain some kind of biological threat.” 

“Whatever it is, I can contain it,” she promised. “Just keep it intact until I get there.” 

“That was the plan.” 

She hung up without any further banter, so at least he knew she was serious. Steve about had a heart attack when one of his neighbors walked by with a dog who seemed very interested in the box and the Star Spangled Man couldn’t come up with a better Plan than holding it really high above his head while the yellow dog jumped up and put his paws over the heart that seemed desperate to return to its sickly pre-serum state. “It’s okay, I love dogs,” he assured the human, and finally the pair passed as Steve wondered whether he should rethink the decision to adopt one. He did sort of attract danger and his own loneliness wasn’t a good enough excuse to-

“Steve!” 

Wanda was running up to him, red already dancing around her hands. He looked up awkwardly and realized he was still holding the box as high as he could and lowered it sheepishly. 

“Does it have a return address?” she asked. 

“Chupacabra, LLC,” he replied. “That’s uh… It’s a monster from Mexican folklore, right?” 

“Yeah, doesn’t exactly sound harmless, does it?” she agreed before surrounding it in swirls of red and Steve released it. The box slowly shredded itself as though being devoured by a school of piranha and they both stared in shock for a moment. 

“is that-?”

“Steve, did someone send you a goat?” 

They both stared at it for a moment and Wanda brought the package to eye level. “Chupacabra, for when you really need them to get your goat,” she read flatly. “Steve. Did… someone send you a goat?” 

“I… guess? Do you sense anything about it? Is it poisoned or anything?” 

“No. It is just a stuffed goat. There is nothing sinister about it, as far as I can tell.” 

He reached out and she allowed it to fall into his hand. There was no itching or burning, so he could only assume that it was exactly what it seemed like. “Why would anyone pay this kind of money to send me a goat? Is it supposed to be some kind of threat? Why a goat? Goats aren’t even…?”

“Goats are terrifying hellspawn whose dead-eyed stare is rivalled only by that of the Great White shark,” she delivered deadpan. 

Steve just stared at her with his mouth slightly ajar. What did one even say to that? “Well, uh. Thanks. For rushing over here, even though it seems like there was no need.” 

“Be careful, Steve. We do not yet know what the goat means. There will probably be more.” 

He nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes open.” 

“Call me for the next one. They may try to lure you into a false sense of security before going in for the kill.” 

“Will do,” he promised, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Frankly, Steve was a little concerned about Wanda’s history with goats. He took the thing into his apartment and set it on top of the bookshelf before sitting on the couch and contemplating it silently. 

What the actual hell? 

***

The second one arrived when he was already having a horrible day. It had started raining in the middle of his run and he’d gotten a message from Shuri that they’d had a setback with Bucky’s recovery. He didn’t even know what that meant, and the worst part was knowing he had no way of getting more information. The missives she sent were impossibly advanced. They literally just showed up in his text messages with no return phone number. As the rain itched its way through his hair and down the back of his neck and his clothes began to cling to him unpleasantly, he reminded himself that setback just meant setback. If there were something to worry about, she’d have told him Bucky had been hurt or something more than she could put in a quick, untraceable text. 

Dirk, whose name appropriately rhymed with _jerk_ was the barista on duty that morning, so he took forever pouring Steve’s coffee, rolled his eyes when he thought Steve couldn’t see, and had nothing to tell him about dogs. As far as Steve could tell, the café had four baristas and Dirk was the only one who deserved to be fired. Steve tipped him anyway, hoping to undo whatever he’d done to deserve the kind of treatment he’d been getting. At least he hoped to keep it from getting worse. 

“Oh, good,” was the greeting from the purple-striped-polo guy whose face Steve already recognized. “Now that I know your schedule, I’m not wasting as much goddamn time waiting on you.” 

“I didn’t order this,” Steve insisted. “Is it from Chu-“

“Not my problem,” Groucho Parks-His-Truck-Somewhere-Steve-Can’t-See-Before-It’s-Too-Late-On-Purpose-Probably replied. “Just need a signature from Steven Gr-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Steve grumbled before signing. He pulled out his phone and Wanda was answering as FedEx left his sight. “Another one. I think I’m gonna have to move.” 

Once again, it was a perfectly harmless goat but this time Wanda read out a note which said, “I herd someone needed a friend.” 

It struck him deep to hear that. Was this someone who knew him? 

The next day, he skipped his run and was relieved to see Kylie behind the counter. “Okay, I know this sounds weird, but are you sending me goats?” he asked without so much as a hello. 

“Uh… What?” 

Steve sighed in frustration. “Never mind. Someone’s been sending me anonymous goats through some internet company and the last one had a note that made me think it could have been you.” 

She stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing. “Like, actual, live goats or?” 

“No, little stuffed-“ he gestured to indicate that they fit in the palm of his hand and didn’t stand too tall. This only seemed to make her laugh harder. “Look, I just need to know who’s sending me these things and how they’re getting my address-“

“I’m sorry, but someone sending Captain America little stuffed animals has done me in. How big is the herd?” 

Steve suddenly realized that what he’d taken for a typo in the last note was suddenly so much worse. “Just two,” he mumbled as his cheeks heated up. “And take it easy on the Aptaincay Americahay, huh? I’m supposed to be lying low.” 

“Yeah, you and your goat outlaws. Do they speak Pig Latin too or do you also happen to speak Goat Latin?” 

“I can’t believe I’m tipping for this service,” he said, only half-joking as she handed him the green smoothie. “By the way, what did I ever do to Dirk?” 

She choked. “You really… can’t do all this to me in one day. My ribs can’t take it. Does he do the eye roll? Please tell me he’s doing the eye roll.” 

“Only when he thinks I can’t see.” 

She coughed as she laughed again. “Don’t worry. I think he’s dating a new guy as of last night, so he should lighten up a bit. He gets really rude when he’s single and trying not to flirt.” 

“What?” 

“I’ll see you Wednesday, Cap!” 

He nodded, still wrapping his brain around Dirk _flirting_. He wasn’t sure where he was going to move to, but it might not be in range of this place. He stopped about two steps from the door. “Dirk’s not sending me the goats, right?” 

She laughed even harder. “Definitely not! Go home and tend to your flock!” 

Steve had done research on Chupacabra LLC after the first goat and they seemed like a perfectly legitimate business. He probably didn’t even need to call Wanda because they were a neutral third party company, and whoever was sending the goats shouldn’t have access to them at any point. It still seemed like way too much money to be spending on a prank. 

Wait. 

Steve had his flip phone out and was putting the battery in before he could even think the words of the plan. 

“Shouldn’t you be on the lam?” 

On the lam. Lamb. Lambs were close enough to goats- especially for someone who made puns like _herd someone needed a friend_. “I knew it! You asshole!” Steve exclaimed. 

“Whoa, hang on. I mean, maybe, but what did I do?” 

“Stop sending me goats, Tony!” 

“Goats?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You are sending me goats through the internet. You know what? I don’t even care. Just tell me how you got my location because I can’t have-“

“Rogers, I’m not sending you goats. Who sends goats? Is that even ethical?” 

“They’re stuffed goats.” 

There was a moment of silence before Steve hung up on Tony’s uproarious laughter and removed the battery again. 

Well, that was a dead end. 

***

Steve put Truth and Justice on the mantle of his new (older, crappier) apartment. They looked identical and Steve had no idea how he could tell them apart, but he was pretty certain about which was which. It felt weird caring for these stuffed goats like he wanted them. Steve wasn’t even sure why they were on display. They were clues, a puzzle sent to torment him, possibly an unknown threat. 

Suddenly his phone pinged and Steve was assaulted with a picture of Bucky’s impish smile. He was dressed like a Wakandan farmer and Steve was absolutely going to tease him about it the next time he spoke. The caption that delivered with it said, “He insisted you would require proof that he is well after my last update.” 

For the rest of the day, Steve wasn’t worried about goats, sheep, dogs, or any other form of animal life. Against all odds and everything that should be true in the world, his best friend was going to be okay. 

The next day, he ran a little taller, smiled a little more, and made it to his regular spot. The run was a little further, but it felt worth it. Jamie was working that day and passed him a little white box that probably could have held a department store bracelet in a former life. “Kylie left that for you,” he said. “She said you were starting a collection.” 

Judging by the confused smile on the barista’s face, Kylie had left him the pleasure of having to explain the situation to yet another person. First, he opened the box. There were three bells, each on a different colored ribbon: red, white, and blue. “She said she figured you’d have a third by now? Are you adopting cats or what?” 

Steve sighed. “Someone’s anonymously sending me stuffed goats in the mail.” Judging by the look on the barista’s face, Christmas had come early. “It’s actually not great. It’s not cute. Please do not start. I know everyone thinks it’s funny that someone’s sending me these things, but I don’t know who it is, and I don’t know how they even found me. I’m in hiding, remember? I literally just moved to a different apartment. Do you know how hard it is to find landlords that let you pay cash?” 

“Alright, message received,” Jamie conceded. “How’s the painting going?” 

Steve shook his head. He hadn’t gotten much done. As much as he missed art, he couldn’t seem to do much of it lately. “How’s your portfolio going?” He listened, trying not to allow too much sadness into his smile as Jamie launched into the great recommendation his art teacher had given him, how sure he was he’d get at least a partial scholarship on his art. Steve wondered if he could have had something like that had he never joined the army. Would it have mattered without Bucky? Steve never would have met Peggy or the Commandos and with his parents both dead… Bucky would have been the only one he’d had left and Steve wouldn’t have been there to save him when he was captured at Azzano. Not that it had stuck. 

Steve left Jamie an extra large tip that day, and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to provide his own scholarship to the kid or if it was because he was grateful someone finally hadn’t laughed for days about the goats that made Steve slightly uncomfortable. 

Yet, as he put the white ribbon around Truth’s neck and the blue around Justice’s, he couldn’t help but feel a strange attachment to them. Apparently he just needed some creepy anonymous stuffed animals and suddenly his apartment felt less empty. What was he becoming, honestly? 

Steve had just sat down and was reaching for the book he was reading when his entire body went tense. He turned to the door as if he might find visual evidence of the knock he’d heard. With great trepidation, he moved silently to the exit and suddenly heard, “And now I gotta learn a whole new schedule, I guess.” 

Steve looked through the peephole in the door and saw the familiar polo and buzzcut of Knocker the Grouch (he’d accidentally caught some Sesame Street staying with Clint’s family a few months back) complaining about Steve moving and probably getting a whole new commute. Steve opened the door and signed mechanically. He thought about calling Wanda, but he recognized the mailing label and the packaging hadn’t been tampered with. Sure enough, it was another stuffed goat that did not cause his hands to blister or fall off. This time, the note read “Don’t let them run off. Keep ‘em flocked up.” 

He grabbed the red ribbon and put it around Bucky’s neck. It was fitting, anyway. Red made him think of his friend and having gotten the picture of him… Steve should probably name them all jerk or asshole or Stop Stalking Me, but somehow he was starting to look forward to the new visitors who brought him terrible notes that he would never admit caused the tiny smile as he put Bucky right next to Justice. 

That was all he ever really wanted to do. 

***

Steve had gotten a new phone and moved to a different city, and somehow the fourth goat still managed to find him in the arms of an only marginally more personable FedEx guy. Steve signed, feeling extra frustrated that he’d been found only a week after moving. He hadn’t even finished unpacking. He grabbed a piece of twine that had held some drawers shut for the move and tied a small loop for Asshole’s collar before setting him next to Bucky and trying to decide how many times he was going to move before giving up. He might be super soldier strong, but there was only so many times someone could move all their stuff before it became Too Much. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when he noticed the Bucky goat had a loose thread sticking out of its front leg. He went looking for a pair of scissors, but gave up after it wasn’t in the second box he thought it should be in. 

Maybe Steve should get rid of his stuff. What did he even need it all for anyway? All he really needed was a bed, a chair, and a table. Maybe some dishes. Clothes too, probably. Anyway, he could get books and everything from the library, TV from the internet… 

He definitely didn’t need a suitcase full of goats- which was what was starting to happen as the deliveries started coming weekly. Steve filled a backpack with the most basic wardrobe he could, used his sheets and a bath towel to wrap some dishes, and put the small herd into their own canvas bag. He donated pretty much everything else, wondering why the heck he was so reluctant to get rid of the plush animals. 

He’d just moved to Fairfax when disaster struck DC. At least he wasn’t far. 

The only problem was, as he rode the bus to the metro, he realized there was a FedEx vehicle following them. Every turn, it followed them and every stop, it waited behind them. Steve’s nerves were on edge. What had he done, who had he pissed off, what sin had he committed to deserve this? His only comfort was that they didn’t seem willing to try to board the bus. Probably wouldn’t have time to run out of the truck and up to the door before it finished trading passengers at the stop. 

Steve wondered if FedEx had calculated that too. 

Once at the metro, Steve raced to get lost in the crowd and he thought he’d succeeded until he saw that familiar black shirt with the purple shoulder stripes just clear the closing doors. She had a box that looked exactly like a goat box, glanced left and right before landing on him. He sank into his chair fruitlessly. Even attempting to hide, Steve’s stature was unmistakable. She slipped into the empty aisle seat, barely fitting in spite of her slender frame because Steve’s shoulders were not built for public transport. 

“Just need a signature,” she grinned at him. 

“I’m literally on my way to an active hostage situation,” Steve replied almost indignantly. 

“On the metro?” she asked. “Probably won’t be active by the time you get there.” 

“Not as bad as the subway.” Steve sighed and signed the gadget to say he’d accepted it and sat there awkwardly. “Do you have one of those smart cards or something? How did you get on the train so fast?” 

“Hopped the turnstile,” she shrugged and leaned back. Steve’s ears popped as they entered a tunnel. 

“You know that’s illegal, right?” 

She gave him a look. “I have half a truck of packages to deliver before I turn my truck in for the day. I don’t have time to wait for your hostage situation and _public transport_ to deliver you back so I can deliver this box of yours.” 

Steve only shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t suppose I can return these to sender?” 

“Pretty sure those anonymous third party things won’t actually do that. Probably won’t even agree to stop selling to whoever’s sending ‘em. These send-an-anonymous-whatever companies are, first and foremost, complete trolls. I mean, come on. At least you’re getting stuffed goats and not glitter bombs, right?” 

“Glitter… bombs?” he repeated in horror. 

She winked at him as the train lurched forward with the brakes and then left him as she headed out. He watched her cross to the other side of the tracks for a ride back and he stared in exhaustion at the box. “Well, Orange Line, I hope you’re up for saving the nation’s capital.” 

***

The goats started coming twice a week after that, until he had to stack them in a precarious pyramid that was far too wide at the base. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Two months passed without a single goat. There were a few more minor crises that the police really could have handled without their interference, but otherwise Steve’s life had become boring. It wasn’t until he realized he was sitting on the couch, staring at the Great Pyramid of Goat-za, that he’d started looking forward to them. That was dangerous. He knew it was. It was the perfect time for his mysterious goat herder to send a goat stuffed with anthrax or something. 

After three days of peace, and finishing his entire stack of library books, Steve was about to climb the walls of his apartment. It was a terrible idea, he shouldn’t be making decisions like this on a whim, but he found the shelter his former barista had recommended and was Just Going to Look. 

Except there was this dog, such a good dog, and Steve fell in love. The feeling seemed pretty mutual since, as soon as his palm had been sniffed and allowed to scratch a little, Dodger jumped on him, practically knocking him over in his desperation to lick every inch of Steve’s face. He actually _giggled_ and grinned like a little kid as he pet the overenthusiastic canine. Dodger helped him pick out some treats and toys and food bowls at the pet store, and didn’t quite help at all actually. There were too many exciting smells, and it was all Steve could do to keep Dodger from running off. 

He loved every minute of it. 

Until he had to leave him the very next day. It didn’t matter than the food and water was full, that the toys were all out, that he’d given the little guy an entire handful of treats. Steve could hear the poor puppo howling as he locked the door to the apartment behind him, and it about broke his heart. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, pal,” he promised. 

The words only seemed to upset the dog more, so Steve took off. He’d been selfish adopting Dodger. He knew he had been. Dogs needed companionship, and he was leaving him all alone. Then again, at least he had toys and someone who was around part of the time. He probably spent most of the day alone in his kennel at the shelter. At least, that was what Steve was going to tell himself to get through this day. Wanda gave him a funny look, so Steve schooled his face to neutral and contributed what he could to evacuate the Smithsonian. There was an active bomb inside the building that Wanda was on her way to contain and remove, but they wanted civilians clear anyway. 

Steve was definitely going to have to move again after this, and they might need to buddy up the flyers with ground fighters like himself to get away again. These high profile saves were really not useful when they were trying to stay under the radar. It was especially not useful for avoiding Sam Wilson complaining about his sore shoulders from carrying Steve’s bulky ass out of the arrest zone. Sam’s words, not his. Wanda was just coming out of the building, bomb floating in a cloud of red, when Sam tapped Steve’s shoulder. 

No, not Sam. 

Goddamn FedEx. 

“That is a bomb!” Steve yelled at her. “What the hell are you doing following me to-“

“Signature and I’ll be on my way away from it!” she offered cheerfully. 

“How did you even find me?!” he demanded. 

Her eyes darted to his coat collar and Steve reached up to feel a bump. “You put… a tracker on me?” 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you down? Delivering your damn goats is at least two full-time jobs!” 

“So don’t deliver them!” 

She glared at him and held out the stylus. 

Steve sighed and signed for the box. He couldn’t get the box to fit in his bag, so he hurriedly dumped the contents and threw the box away. FedEx was long gone before Wanda was setting off her own fireworks above the national mall, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a little better that the routine of goats and crime fighting was back up. 

When he got home, Dodger had predictably acted out for being left alone, but in the worst way possible. Ignoring all of his food and toys, Dodger had gone for the base of the goat pyramid, and made the Bucky goat a little too physically accurate. The thread he’d never gotten around to trimming must have given because the remains of goat Bucky’s front left leg were scattered fluff. “Buddy…” Steve said to the dog, sinking down to his knees as he picked up the snowy filling and the three-legged goat. “All these goats and you had to eat him, huh?” He sat back against the couch, holding the crippled goat in his lap. 

Dodger rested his head on Steve’s thigh, huffing out a sad apology to the disfigured stuffed animal. The dog looked up at Steve and whined, nudging him as if that might make the quiet tears he was crying for whatever stupid reason stop. Steve hugged the dog even though he should probably be angry, but how could you be angry at someone who was trying to cuddle you? “I’m worried about real Bucky,” he confessed into the furry neck and half-smiled at the lick on his hair line. He released his new roommate who curled up next to him, shoving his butt against Steve’s knee. “Shuri used to update me more, and I know I shouldn’t worry, not when the last update was a picture of him smiling, but… Why’d you have to go and do a thing like that, pal?” 

Dodger didn’t reply, seemingly content to sit with Steve and listen to him talk. Steve gave him a quick scratch before setting Goat Bucky up on the coffee table. When he was ready to get off the floor, he’d put him a little higher, further away from Dodger, but for now he had another goat to name. “You could’ve at least chewed up the one I named after the Cubs,” he chided the dog. “Chicago definitely deserves his leg bitten off by the Dodger.” 

Steve leaned to grab his bag and pulled out the new goat, setting it on the table next to three-legged Bucky and dug around for the new pun. It was slightly crumpled, but still legible once he smoothed it over his dog-less knee. _I’m so sorry, pal, but I think I have to give up the goats._

Steve’s heart hammered so hard he felt like he was dying. Even Dodger realized something was wrong as he sat up and pushed his face into Steve’s stomach. Suddenly, he knew exactly who had been sending the goats, and why they’d been able to track his location. Wakanda was more than advanced enough, and Bucky was the only one who’d find this kind of shit funny. He’d probably been looking for a way to spend some of the money he frequently siphoned from HYDRA and had thought inundating his childhood friend with goats was…

There were too many signs. Dodger getting that exact one of several dozen goats, no updates, and that apology for giving up the goats? It sounded a whole lot like _give up the ghost_. Steve got up on shaky legs as he grabbed some clothes and goat Bucky for his bag. He’d go to Wakanda on foot if he had to. He knew where it was, even if he couldn’t remember the exact coordinates for the way in through the shield. Someone would know him. Someone would help him. 

Only he didn’t get that far because Shuri was already at his apartment, almost hitting him in the chest as she knocked on the now open door. 

Steve leaned heavily against the frame. “What happened?” he asked, doing his best not to fall apart. 

She frowned at him. “What do you mean what happened? Are you expecting bad news?” 

“Why else would you come here in person?” 

Dodger was sniffing at Shuri’s hand curiously and she gave him a little pat. “I see you have a new friend,” she grinned at him. “Does he fly well?” 

“Fly?” 

“Come on, echo. Your other friend is expecting us back soon.” 

Steve only felt confused. If Bucky was expecting them, he was alive and aware, at least. Hopefully he was going to stay that way. He didn’t ask anything else, just leashed the dog and started to follow her. “Wait,” he said. “Uh… just… can we spare five minutes?” 

“Only five! I have very important experiments, you know! Time sensitive! I can’t be playing taxi service all day!” 

Five minutes later, Steve had a proper suitcase to go with his backpack and he was boarding the Wakandan plane with Shuri and Dodger. “Two days ago, you were living in a four by six square and now you’re going to another continent,” he muttered to the dog. “Who did you piss off, buddy?” 

Dodger let out a half bark and jumped his front paws onto Steve’s lap. The blond rewarded him with some enthusiastic scratches. He was still nervous about what he was going to find once they landed, but knowing he was about to see Bucky in any (living) state had put him in an overall good mood. 

It turned out that Steve had adopted a dog who not only flew well, but seemed to love it. The only thing he seemed more excited about was exploring all the smells of grass on another continent. Steve smiled as he reached to let him off the leash and Shuri didn’t give them a second glance. Maybe Steve should have been worried about letting him loose so soon, but he wasn’t. In a city, absolutely, but out here? Dodger clearly just wanted to run around, and he kept circling back to Steve as if to ask why he wasn’t running around like his hair was on fire too. Besides, Steve was one of the few humans who might be able to run fast enough to catch him. 

Then Steve saw a familiar figure headed toward them and Shuri patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got to get back to my experiments, but please do not traumatize the children. They think kissing is gross.” 

“Kissing?” Steve repeated, bemused. 

“Yes, you and Sergeant Barnes have not seen each other in-“

“Wait, what?” Steve laughed. “Bucky and I aren’t-? Kissing??” It didn’t even compute. 

“Huh,” she replied thoughtfully. “Maybe it is the whole time-period thing. I was under the impression American men were not physically affectionate unless they were romantically involved.” 

“No, Bucky and me, we’re… we’re not…”

“Relax, Captain Rogers. No one here is going to care either way. I am more surprised that I seem to have offended you with my assumption.” 

“I’m not offended, I just…” he shook his head and left the sentence unfinished. Shuri raised an eyebrow that Steve couldn’t quite translate. It was either a challenge of his moral center or his relationship with Bucky and he didn’t think either deserved any kind of question. Besides, Bucky was in earshot now. “Steve, did you bring a dog to Africa?!” he was yelling. 

Dodger let out a joyous bark as if he knew Bucky was talking about him and immediately went in for the friendliest kill Steve had ever witnessed. There was a lot of licking going on in that one-armed hug, and Steve had a feeling there was going to be some no-jumping training in Dodger’s future. Definitely before he met Natasha. Oh, Dodger would be fine. She might even give him a pat. But Steve. Oh, Steve was going to get the murder-look of a lifetime if his dog jumped on her. At least, he hoped so. Seeing Natasha get excited and talk at Dodger the way most people baby-talked to pets would give him nightmares for weeks. 

Finally, Bucky was set free as Steve got closer and Dodger switched targets. Steve gave him some attention, but mostly was trying to calm him down. Apparently running gave him energy more than it wore him out. This would have been useful to know earlier. “Hey, Buck.” 

“Hey, Steve.” 

“Not that I ain’t happy to see you, pal, but there is a reason I had to come all the way out here without being told anything? Everything okay?” 

“Shuri wanted me to stick around a few more days until we were sure it was all gone,” he shrugged. “I told her I knew a really great babysitter who could keep an eye on me so she could get on with- I forget what she called it, but Steve she can make literally anything fly.” 

Steve laughed and felt his smile all the way down to his stomach. “Yeah, what do babysitters get paid around here?” 

“Steve, I’m insulted,” Bucky complained. “You get to spend the next week with a semi-stable hundred year old man and you want money?” 

“Well, since there’s no money in it…” Steve unzipped his suitcase and dumped a waterfall of plush goats at Bucky’s feet. “What can I get for about way-too-damn-many goats?” 

Bucky stared at him for a full three seconds before doubling over in the loudest laughter Steve had ever heard out of him. He pointed at the blond, practically wheezing, “God, I wish I could have seen your face!” 

“My face?!” Steve demanded. “You should have seen Wanda’s! I get the first one and I’m calling her because I think I’m getting some kind of poison or bioweapon, and she has some kind of dark backstory involving goats based on that face, let me tell you…”

Steve stopped talking as Bucky hugged him and he was forced to hug back. They stood there like that until Dodger broke them up a minute later with a very ornate stick that someone somewhere was probably missing and wouldn’t want to be used for fetch. “Uh…” 

“Yeah, let’s leave that and pretend we never saw it,” Bucky suggested. 

“Hang on,” Steve said as they approached the house Bucky had been living in. “Are those… goats?” 

Bucky gave him the most judgmental look he’d ever seen. “Yeah. I’ve been herding goats. Why did you think I was sending goats? I could’ve been sending you potatoes. There’s a potato one, Steve.” 

Later, when they’d both moved back to the states, Bucky picked up the goat with three legs and gave it to Steve with an accusatory look. Steve shrugged and explained, “Yeah, I wish he’d gone after Chicago, but Dodger really wanted Bucky.” 

“Oh, well, at least you weren’t just trying to be funny pulling its left arm off,” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Excuse me, who sent me an entire bookcase full of goats over the past year, Mr. Trying to Be Funny?” 

“Hey! At least I didn’t send you the real ones!” 

A month later, Steve knew as soon as he heard Bucky’s, “Steve, what the fuck-?!” that his glitter bomb had arrived. 


End file.
